True Beauty
by Amei
Summary: Sasukecentric angstoneshot fic this time. It's actually sasunaru, if you really, really read between the lines... Don't hurt yourself, now.


Deathfic! Yay. Sasuke centric one-shot angsty goodness this time.

And, go figure, this one's more vague than the first one.

Enjoy it...I suppose.

It's actually sasunaru if you squint...because I find it hard not to write that pairing in, somehow.

Oh, and I don't own Naruto. Che.

**True Beauty**

He doesn't know why he's there.

He doesn't know why the rain doesn't soak into him, sink into his bones and his skin and suck the feeble life away. It felt like it had.

But he knows better.

Since he doesn't know why he's there.

Doesn't know why there are tears streaming down his cheeks.

Since he can't feel it on his frozen skin.

He can't feel it in his frozen heart.

Or maybe he just won't.

But he **doesn't** know **why** he's there.

He's sure it's not raining, not really, but for some reason, the sunlight won't reach them here.

Not here.

Never here.

He wouldn't **let** it reach them **here**.

He wasn't sure about anything anymore.

Except for one thing.

The sunlight had no right to reach them here.

Since, y'know, the person who had that right…

Well, they died a long time ago...

Those were the words on the shadowed man's lips.

That's what he had said.

A ghost of a smile and he was gone.

Just a ghost, and nothing more.

Nobody ever really smiles anymore, y'know.

Or maybe they did.

He just chose not to notice.

And he doesn't know why.

Doesn't know why or when or how he's here.

Just knows that he is.

And all he can see is beauty.

Beauty.

Beauty without the sunlight is beauty all the same.

Isn't it?

Not to him.

He's not sure if it's beautiful anymore.

Or maybe, it never was.

Not without the sun to bring out the contrast.

But then again, his eyes stopped seeing long ago.

At least, they lost the importance of seeing...

If nothing else.

Nothing.

Nothing but the white rose in his hands.

It was ironic, to have such purity in a place like this.

So, now he knows why he's here.

And he knows that he feels velvet.

Even though he's sure he stopped feeling.

Stopped feeling, even when he was sitting there, in the sunlight that had dared to touch him.

Dared to touch him and try to chase away the rain.

The rain.

That rain was never really there.

Not all there.

But oh, he wished it was.

Because the wetness on that rose can't be rain, as much as he wants it to be.

Wants.

He doesn't know what he wants anymore.

And even though he thinks he doesn't, convinces and lies to himself that he doesn't-

All at once, he knows exactly why he's here.

So he takes his frozen skin and frozen heart and looks to the skies.

That's not beauty.

Not without the sun.

All at once, he's there.

And he knows why.

But he's not all there, that's for sure. Not really.

And he places that white, purified rose on the grave.

And he watches, with all fascination, as his own tears, like blood, saturate and permeate and cover, and taint.

And it's like lightning, the sun on those drops, and in his eyes-

And maybe beauty does exist.

But only here.

Here.

But blood could never be beautiful again.

Not without the sun.

Never.

Never was a strong word.

But all too fitting, for the sun was very fickle.

But you always knew,

The sun wouldn't just disappear

like leaves in the wind, and it wouldn't ever leave you.

It would always be you, with the sun on your back and the both of you facing the morning.

And he couldn't live without it, y'know?

Not really living.

He wasn't really living.

Not since the sun burned out and stopped chasing the rain away.

The rain that wasn't really there.

But he knew it was, to some degree.

Even though his senses all died with the sun.

As did the beauty of the world.

And then he's up, dragging his icy layers on again, and walking, walking away with that sun on his back—

But it's not the same, y'know? And it wouldn't ever be.

Because beauty died with the sun, and the skies wept with the loss.

And he knows why he's there, now, with the sun on his back like that, and he finds it a fitting moment.

And he turns, and stares into that pseudo-sun with glacial eyes that can't see as well any more--

stares straight into it, and imagines-

and his words are lost among the sounds of a festival celebrating something that wasn't worth celebrating.

Not anymore.

"Happy Birthday, Naruto."

But the sunlight heard him.

And for Sasuke, that was enough.

.Owari.

* * *

Ehhh, this doesn't really make up for me being dead for a number of months...but...oh well! Hahahaha...ha. Cough. 


End file.
